Hot Addiction
by ToLoveIsToDestory
Summary: Cato's that boy with straight A's. He's the one that all the girls lust after because he's just everyone's type. Until suddenly he drops out of college leaving behind no explanation to work in a bar. Clove's a freshman in college and she doesn't know what she's getting herself into when she gets involved with the boy that everyone tells her to stay away from. AU
1. Sky High

**A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you HOT ADDICTION! Enjoy! Btw, on a side note, I got my inspiration from Panic! At the Disco, check them out. Amazing band, I'm telling you! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 1

He hates the word addict. It sounds so degrading and just plain wrong. Addict, addict, addict. How can someone label another person with just one word? How can someone judge so quickly? They don't know him. No one knows him.

The minute his shift ends, he grabs his messenger bag and rushes to the bathroom. There he pours out his supplies out onto the black and white tiled floor. Using his teeth, he ties the elastic band tightly around his bicep and grabs the sterile needle. His hands are shaking badly as he retrieves the bottle of morphine. He needs the drug _now_. Cato's hands are so unsteady; he drops the bottle, spilling half of its contents onto the bathroom floor.

"Damn," Cato mutters, cursing himself silently. He picks up the bottle and extracts what's left of it. His veins are pulsing painfully under his skin and his body aches for the relief only morphine brings. He stabs the needle into his arm and tilts his head back, the morphine running through his veins, turning the smoldering fire into ice. His eyes slip close as the pain fades away, leaving behind numbness that he's come to depend on. It's better this way. His hand lets go of the needle and Cato leans over with his forehead against the cool surface of the sink, feeling the high he needs desperately.

Suddenly the bathroom door flings open and a girl glides in. She lets out a startled shriek when she sees him on the floor.

"What the hell! This is the women's bathroom!" The girl yells, giving him a disgusted look. _He's definitely a pervert._ His eyes flutter open and she has to catch her breath. His eyes, they're the color of the summer sky, so bright despite the haze he's under. He's obviously drunk. She's about to leave when she sees the discarded needle laying abandoned on the floor. An empty bottle rolled to the heel of her stiletto and she picks it up curiously.

"What the hell is this?" she murmurs, turning the bottle around in her hand slowly as she tries to make sense of the label. MS-Contin dominates the small label, its bold black letters many font sizes larger than the dosage and administration information. What is MS-Contin?

Her eyebrows furrow together as she begins to understand. He's not drunk, worse than drunk. He's an addict. And yet she feels a strong urge to help him even though he's a complete stranger.

Suddenly the boy coughs, clumsily throwing his supplies back in his bag. He got up, leaning against the mirror for a moment, his body shaking slightly as the side effects of the drug begins to affect him. It's tolerable though, he doesn't mind. The positive side definitely outweighs the negatives. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs again, choking on the bitter substance.

"You okay?" She ask, genuinely concerned. She reaches out for him but he jerks back, his elbow hitting the sink and she winces even though it wasn't her who got hurt.

"Fine," he replies hastily, pushing the door open before she can say another word.

**A/N: Whataya think? Review please! Should I continue? **


	2. Plan B

**A/N: Here's a nice long chapter for you! I'm so happy you guys like it. Originally, this was a novel I was starting and I just changed the character's names up a bit to give it a Hunger Games feel! Enjoy! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 2:

Clove leaves the women's bathroom still clutching the empty bottle like she was holding onto dear life, which was strange because she didn't realize she was holding onto it until her roommate mentioned it.

"Hey, what's that?" Annie asks, her words slurring together, as she dances closer and closer to Finnick. Her short black dress slides up and down her toned thighs as she sways dangerously to the music, effectively driving Finnick to the edge of insanity.

"Huh?" Clove glances down at her hand and shoves the bottle in her bag. "Nothing."

But Annie didn't even hear her answer. She's too busy touching Finnick, palms pressed down against his chest. Finnick leans down and Annie tilts her head back slowly and just before their lips touched, Annie laughs and pushes Finnick away. Poor guy, Annie enjoys playing hard to get and Finnick likes nothing more than a challenge. They're practically made for each other.

Clove weaves through the ocean of sweaty bodies, making her way to the even more crowded bar. The aroma of alcohol and beer somehow mixes in with the loud music and it makes her head spin round and round like a roller coaster. She orders a fruity drink even though she's old enough to have alcohol and collapse on a stool, wishing that she could just kick her stilettos off.

Bright lights wash over the club in a flash and at this moment, subconsciously, Clove searches for the boy she bumped into in the bathroom. Her eyes scrutinize the bodies pulsing along with the beat of the drums but she doesn't see his blonde head among the crowd.

Clove returns to her drink disappointed, when there's a loud crash in the corner that reverberates off the high walls.

She spins around in her stool and her she feels like she won the lottery when she sees him stumbling to his feet.

"Slow it down," Peeta warns as he helps Cato back in his chair.

Cato shakes his head and downs his ninth, or was it his fifteenth, beer. The morphine didn't help at all since he spilled half of it. So the only solution is to get drunk, _really _drunk. Beer isn't nearly as effective as morphine but it does the trick eventually.

He grabs another bottle and Peeta snatches it back. "What is your problem?" Cato asks annoyed. His words slurred together so much that Peeta couldn't understand a single word Cato was saying.

"That's it!" Peeta grabs Cato by the arm and drags him towards the exit. Peeta throws Cato out forcefully and none too gently. "You're going home. Walk."

Cato stumbles again, tripping over his own foot. His knees hit the floor and he doesn't have the willpower to get back up.

Clove ditches her unfinished drink at the bar and without thinking, dashes out into the cool September night air.

A wave of fresh air hit her and she finds him all but passed out on the sidewalk.

"Alright, get up," she says but he doesn't budge. Guess she's going to have to do this the hard way.

Clove pulls her stilettos off and throws them in the back seat of her cherry red Mustang. She takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around his torso. He stirs and she manages to get him to his feet.

"Come on," she encourages, leading him to the passenger seat.

He looks at her confused but he's too drunk to fight back. If she's kidnapping him, he couldn't care less.

Clove pulls his seatbelt on, satisfied and takes her place in the driver's seat.

"Where do you live?" She asks him, mesmerized by the way his body moves. The way his chest would rise and fall with every breath he takes. The way his eyelashes would brush his cheekbones every time he blinks.

He mumbles something and she, like Peeta, finds that she doesn't understand a word that comes from his lips.

She fastens her seatbelt and starts the engine. She can't leave him to wander the streets all night now can she? As a kind and compassionate person she is, she must take him to her dorm room to spend the night.

**A/N: Ohhhhhhh. See how I squeezed Annie, Finnick, and Peeta in there? Like a boss! Clove, Cato, and a dorm room…. What's going to happen? I know, but you guys don't…. Anyways, review! **


	3. Beautifully Broken

**A/N: I thought the other chapter 3 could be better so I decided to sit down and write you guys another chapter 3. This one should give you guys a bit of background info on Cato and Clove which is nice to have. I'm sorry if anyone likes the other chapter better! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 3

There are two types of people in the world: those who give a shit and those who don't. As of right now, Cato doesn't give a shit. The world can erupt into a third world war and Cato would still be as happy as a kid on Christmas Eve and as high as a fucked up motherfucker.

It still amazes him how he got from point A to point B, from a small town boy to the king of Panem College. From the kid who never touched a drop of alcohol to the drunk addict in the passenger seat of some strange girl's car.

Cato never meant everything to unfold the way it did. He was never supposed to fall in love but he did anyway. He wasn't supposed to drop out of college or become an addict but none of that matter now. He was never one to dwell on past events and he isn't going to start now.

Cato leans back on the leather seats and closes his eyes, feeling like he's floating in the middle of a cool, calm lake miles away from his problems. Clove pulls the car up next to a building and Cato frowns as she tries to make him leave his safe haven. He resists her, pulling his arm out of her grasp whenever her fingers try to wrap themselves around his wrist.

Clove makes an unladylike grunt as she grabs his wrist, digging her nails into his arm so that he'll cooperate. Cato flinches but Clove doesn't loosen her hold on him. She drags him out of her Mustang and only let go once he stops being difficult.

Placing her hand on the small of his back, she guides him into the elevator where he spends the short ride staring distantly at his hands.

Clove looks down at her hands as well and her eyes fall on the small circular scar on the inside of her wrist, a cigarette burn. Her eyes travel up her arms and she counts the light white scars scattered across her skin, symbols of his love, or so he told her two years ago. Each time the knife sinks into her skin, he swore he loved her. And she believed him, being the stupid naïve girl she was.

Thresh, the mysterious boy with a dark side to him that she once found enticing. His name used to make her shiver with pleasure but now all it brings are bad memories that she'll give anything to forget.

Clove pushes her abusive ex boyfriend out of her head before she gets a chance to miss him and gently pushes Cato out of the elevator once it stops on the 2nd floor. Cato staggers slightly and she steadies him before unlocking her dorm room.

Cato's blue eyes widen as she pushes him onto her bed. His back hit the bed with a soft thud and he struggles to get up, openly horrified. Clove rolls her eyes, amused.

"Calm down. I'm not going to rape you," Clove says, with a hint of a smile on her face.

Cato calms down slightly and leans back into the pillows in such a sexy way that Clove is convinced he's trying to seduce her. If he is, it's definitely working. It takes every fiber of Clove's self control to not tackle him right then and there.

He moves a little to the left and his shirt slides up his stomach, revealing a thin strip of sun-kissed skin that makes Clove ache to take his shirt off along with the rest of his clothes.

Clove is now seriously considering raping him and spending the next decade of her life paying for her crime in prison. It would totally be worth it though. And chances are he'll wake up not knowing the vile things she did to him the night before.

Clove laughs to herself, pulling one of his shoes off and tossing it under the bed. God knows she doesn't have the guts to rape him in the first place. She grabs his other foot and as she pulls his shoe off, his jeans slide slowly up his leg, showing scars that never seemed to completely heal. Not on the inside anyways.

Angry pink lines permanently etched into his leg, crisscrossing over one another in ways that lead Clove to believe that once his skin was nothing but bloodied strips of skin hanging off his leg.

She gasps. Her scars are nothing compared to his. Her fingers fly over the rough surface of his leg, feeling bumps where his wounds had crudely healed, creating a network of scars that any person would deem ugly.

Clove doesn't find them ugly though. In fact, she doesn't find any part of him ugly. He's perfect in every single way.

Silently, Clove pulls her covers over him, hiding his scars under the pink blankets. She feels like she's invading his privacy and seeing things she isn't supposed to be seeing. Those scars, she can't get them out of her head. A million questions ravage through her mind. What _happened_ to him?

Clove can't help it. She feels a compelling need to understand him. The boy who's addicted to morphine got her addicted to him.

**A/N: Soooo, I hope you liked that chapter more than the other one! Haha, anyways, REVIEW! **

**Coming up next: Aren't you guys dying to know what happened to poor Cato? **


	4. Babelicious

**A/N: Sorry I took so long to update! But I'm back now… miss me? xD**

**For all the anonymous reviewers: Just so you know, your reviews really mean a lot! Even if I can't thank you all personally, I can't even begin to describe how happy I am that you all have taken the time to say something nice!**

**Anyways, here's your next chapter! Enjoy! -TLITD**

CHAPTER 4

When Cato wakes up this morning, he knows something had gone horribly wrong. One, he has a headache so bad, it's like a hammer is endlessly rattling his brain. And two, even worse than the headache, he's in a bed surrounded by pink blankets.

And Cato knows for a fact that he doesn't own any pink blankets whatsoever so either he was so drunk last night, he stole pink blankets from his dear old neighbor. Or the other scenario, the worse scenario that is, he's slept over at some sorority girl's dorm room. He expects it to be the latter which gives Cato a bad, bad feeling. The only thing reassuring him that nothing happened is that fact that he's fully clothed.

Cato groans and closes his eyes, trying desperately to remember what happened last night. The pounding migraine doesn't help at all and actually contributes to Cato's forgetfulness. He had been hung over before but not like this. This particular hangover is sent by the devil himself.

Clove leaves the bathroom, toweling her wet hair while she searches for her new dress. She brought the dress weeks ago but never had a chance to wear it. She glances over at him, making sure he is still sleeping and lets the towel wrapped around her body fall to the ground. She slips on her bra and panties when suddenly her phone rings, playing Hollaback Boy loud enough to wake a deaf grandmother up from the dead.

Cato's eyes open in a flash and his eyes widen considerably. Involuntarily, his eyes travel along her body for a split second before he covers his eyes with his hands.

"I didn't see anything!" He yells, his face turning a bright red. "I blinked, I swear."

Clove ducks into the bathroom for cover and pulls the dress on. Its official; she hates her phone. It's the crappiest of crappy phones. "Liar."

If her memory serves correctly, Clove remembers his eyes being wide open. How can she miss the bright blue?

"N-no," he stutters, turning even redder if that's possible.

Hesitantly, Clove opens the bathroom door and promptly decides that Cato did see everything. If he didn't, he wouldn't be as red as a ripe tomato with his hands over his eyes in way that reminds her of a kid who just saw a vivid sex scene.

"You can look now. I'm decent," she says, checking her phone to see who the hell called at such a bad time. Annie Cresta. Damn Annie and her horrible timing. Clove glances at Annie's unused bed and realizes that Annie never came back last night. Pity that Clove just found out about that now, she could've slept in Annie's bed instead of suffering tremendously on the hard floor. The sacrifices she makes for a hot stranger is staggering.

Cato slowly lowers his hands, ready to face her wrath but instead she just studies him, probably trying to decide whether he's a pervert or a rapist. "I blinked," he repeats, not knowing what else to say.

Clove laughs and the sweet sound seems to lesson Cato's headache. "Alright, you blinked. I believe you. What's your name?"

She hands him a bottle of water and he takes it gratefully, chugging down half of it before answering her. "Cato Anderson."

"I'm Clove," she says. "Now, that was not how I was supposed to meet you."

Cato finishes the water and plays with the empty bottle. "So how did we meet?"

Clove tells him about how she found him drunk outside the club and how he was too drunk to tell her where he lived. She purposely leaves out the part where she knows he's an addict.

He raises his eyebrow disbelievingly. "So let me get this straight. You see a random drunk guy on the streets and you decide to bring him back to your dorm room to spend the night, keeping in mind that he could be a serial killer, child molester, or rapist."

Clove nods, confirming everything he just said. What can she say? She has an undeniable weakness for cute guys and Cato is certainly something nice to look at. "Trust me, I was more tempted to rape you than you me."

Cato laughs, thinking that it's a joke when Clove meant every word. He gets up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and offers Clove a small smile. "Well, I should get going. Thanks though."

Clove jumps to her feet too and stuffs her feet in her old comfortable Converses, forgetting that ratty black Converses doesn't match the elegant dress she's got on. "Want a ride?"

Cato shakes his head, his blonde hair falling in his eyes. "It's okay. I don't want to bother you. I'll walk."

She follows him out of the room, hastily locking up. "It's no problem," she says insistently as they got into the elevator.

He laughs a little, smiling at her stubbornness. "Alright Clove. Drive me home."

The elevator opens and Annie is standing in front of them, running her fingers through her tangled hair and fixing her smeared mascara. She spontaneously burst out laughing when she sees Clove leaving with Cato. Clove attempts to walk faster but Annie is too fast on her feet, which is surprising since Annie is sporting a pair of six inch heels.

Annie hurries over and grabs Clove's wrist, her grip as tight as a sumo wrestler's. She yanks Clove away from Cato effortlessly. "You must tell me all about your far-flung adventures in the bedroom later," Annie orders, shamelessly checking out Cato. She sighs appreciatively, her gaze washing over his body. "Mmmm, I want a piece of that babelicious bod-"

"Annie!" Clove interrupts in a hushed voice. "You're taken. Finnick, remember?"

Annie shrugs delicately. "So?"

Clove laughs and then grew very serious. "Promise me you'll leave him alone."

Annie exhales dramatically, flipping her long brown hair over one shoulder. "Fine, since you want him oh-so-badly, I will not touch a hair on his body." She giggles mischievously. "Although I really do doubt he has a hair on his body to begin with."

Clove groans and pushes Annie into the elevator before Annie can say another word. The elevator closes to Annie's protests and Clove returns to Cato's side.

"Sorry about that," Clove says, pretending that it pains her to deal with Annie when in reality, Clove finds Annie to be the single most hilarious and trustworthy person ever to roam the earth. She really couldn't ask for a better friend nor would she want one.

"It's fine." Cato holds the door open for her and her heart flutters from the fact that he's a perfect gentleman.

She gets in her '66 Mustang and pushes the door open for Cato. "Where to?"

Cato slides in easily, not bothering to put on his seatbelt. "It's really close. Mockingjay Street."

Clove nods and takes a left. "That's a college area isn't it?"

"Yeah," Cato says, staring out the window, secretly wishing that Clove would change the topic. He hates talking about college. He supposes every dropout does.

"You go to Panem College?" Clove asks casually and Cato winces mentally.

"I used to. Dropout," he spits out the word like its poison on his tongue.

Clove nods awkwardly. She was going to ask him about the scars on his leg but if he doesn't like talking about dropping out of college, he'll sure as hell hate talking about those scars.

A discussion for another time then. Clove pulls into his street and parallel parks. "I'll see you later?"

"Sure," Cato says, although he doubts they'll run into each other again. He walks up the driveway and the way he walks catches Clove's attention. She wouldn't exactly call it a limp but he obviously puts more pressure on his right leg than on his left one. She takes a deep breath, remembering the scars that decorate his leg.

He disappears behind his door and Clove drives randomly down the streets, not wanting to go back into her dorm room just yet. Whether it was intentional or not, Cato takes over her mind and body like some unknown virus. These butterflies in her stomach move restlessly and Clove spots a familiar blond boy walking, his hands jammed in his pockets and earphones stuffed in his ears.

She squints hard, trying to place him and hits the steering wheel, remembering in a flash. He's Cato's friend, the one who shoved Cato out of the club last night. Creeper style, Clove drives up behind him and honks loudly to get his attention. He looks up surprised and she pulls over.

"Hey, can I ask you a couple of questions?" Clove asks and he gives her a warm smile.

"Sure," he says, taking his earphones out.

Clove gives him her most charming smile and opens the door to the passenger seat. Since she's got nothing better to do and Cato's not willing to talk about his scars, Clove must do everything in her power to find out herself.

**A/N: Hollaback Boy is actually an amazing song, listen to it if you're comfortable with excessive cussing! By Cobra Starship btw!**

**Another thing, any good Hunger Games fanfic out there? If you can be so kind (which you all are), recommend some to me? Even recommend me your own, I promise to constructively criticize. Anyways, I'm very generous with compliments!**

**Anyways, REVIEW and I will most definitely shower you with affection and my never ending love! **


	5. Whores

**A/N: So many people favorited/followed this story *hearts* and there's so many long reviews that it makes me ridiculously happy :D. You guys are amazing! Love you all so much! xxx -TLITD**

CHAPTER 5

Clove never had to actually chase after boys because to be brutally honest, boys always chase after her. She never understood why they did anyhow; she wasn't anything out of the ordinary, plain actually, with brown eyes and brown hair. She's practically a mutt compared to Glimmer and her fluffed up gang of perfect poodles.

Maybe Clove seduced them with her boring personality or better yet, her ability to laugh like a goose. It's just one of the odd things about the universe but Clove doesn't mind it at all since she prefers to be the chased rather than being the chaser. It's just makes life a littler easier and the grass a little greener on her side.

Clove orders a strawberries and crème frappuccino for herself and an iced latte for Peeta who sits at a table for two with his elbows resting lightly on the tabletop. She brings the drinks over and slides his across the table.

"So the questions?" Peeta prompts, curious about this pretty stranger who pulled him aside.

Clove takes a sip and bites her lower lip, thinking of how to ask him the questions without sounding like a total stalker. She's not used to wanting someone this much.

"Um, your friend, uh, Cato," Clove begins nervously, her eyes fixated on the whipped cream to avoid awkward eye contact with Peeta. She tucks her hair behind an ear, stalling for time, struggling to find the right words.

Peeta seems amused. "You know Cato?"

Clove nods enthusiastically, so relieved that he saved her from a seemingly inevitable awkward moment. "Yeah, I met him yesterday at the bar."

Peeta already knows how this conversation is going to end. Too many girls have talked to him on the behalf of Cato this last year. Ever since Cato was single, Peeta have been assaulted by numerous girls all wanting the same thing: Cato. Even though Cato's a dropout, he still has girls lusting after him while the only girls that approach Peeta are the ones that are in desperate need of cupcakes and cookies after a bad break-up.

"Let me guess. You like him," Peeta says straightforwardly as though many girls have asked him similar questions before and Clove blinks surprised. _How the hell did he know?_

She blushes and prays to the high heavens that Peeta doesn't notice. The blush would be a dead giveaway that she likes Cato and Peeta would doubtlessly run back to Cato, ready to inform him about his latest not-so-secret admirer.

"No!" Clove exclaims, trying to seem shocked. She'd taken drama in high school and hopefully all those years performing on stage had improved her lying abilities by a little. "I was just wondering about the scars on his leg."

Peeta's jaw drops and he rushes to gather his wits. "I'm not sure Cato wants everyone knowing about that," Peeta says, once he recovers from the shock.

"I won't let him know you told me. I just… I just need to know," Clove says, with a desperate edge to her voice.

Peeta sighs but he was always a softie, not one to say 'no' to anyone because it's just not in his nature. "Fine, but it's a long story."

Clove smiles. "That's okay. I don't have anything to do today."

Cato closes his door behind him and sinks down onto the floor, already tying the elastic band around his arm. His hands shake violently as he grabs a bottle of morphine from the bathroom cabinet. The tip of the needle enters his arm once again and Cato feels the familiar numbness. He surrenders completely to the drug because it's the only thing worth living for now.

He closes his eyes, feeling the fake happiness the drug provides. Cato finds it funny that he hasn't been truly happy, not since that night. Not since-

"-Katniss died that night," Peeta begins, his drink remaining untouched in front of him. "It was a camping trip and only a few people went, Cato, me, Gale, and Katniss."

Peeta swallows painfully, Katniss. Cato's dead girlfriend, the whole city attended her funeral. The only person Peeta can think of that missed her funeral was Cato, who was undergoing major surgery to save his leg from being amputated. It was too late for Peeta's leg; it was ripped clean off by the time the paramedics arrived.

"I'm sorry," Clove whispers, feeling his lost like her own.

Peeta waves her concern away. "It was late and Katniss went back out into the woods to find her cell phone."

He knows she wasn't really looking for her cell phone. She just wanted an excuse to have hot sex with Gale in the woods. One boy was never enough for Katniss. She was the girl on fire, she always needed more. Damn, her phone was right-

-on the table. Her phone was on the fucking table. Cato slams his fist against the hardwood floor, the flashbacks coming in a nauseating wave of pain.

Katniss, her name burns on his tongue. Even when she's dead, she still sets him on fire, body and soul. It was his fault she died. It-

"-Wasn't Cato's fault, Katniss left on her own when he was in the shower. She just left him a note on the table," Peeta continues, his throat turning dry.

Clove listens wide-eyed, knowing how this story ends. It ends with no happily ever after because after all, life is one big tragedy.

"The thing was, there were wolves that night," Peeta cast his eyes down on the table. "And they-"

-tore Katniss apart, limb by limb by limb, an arm here, a leg there, her mutilated body still screaming as Cato breaks through the barrier of bushes and bursts into the clearing where Katniss lies on the floor, the screams stopping along with her heart.

The wolves lick their lips and narrow their eyes as they approach Cato hungrily, smacking their bloodied lips in perfect unison, smiling frighteningly at him. He backs up numbly, his eyes still trained on Katniss. He doesn't want to leave her here alone. But-

"-I pulled him away from her and we ran for it." The memory is still vivid and fresh in Peeta's mind. "We didn't reach the cabin fast enough but a nearby camper heard the screams and dialed 911."

Wolves tumble out of the wood, their teeth snapping at the air. Swift black bodies circling-

-and then razor-sharp claws dig deep into Cato's back, dragging him to the ground viciously. He can't move under the large bloodthirsty animal.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through his leg but Cato doesn't scream. He doesn't fight them. Instead he just lies there, letting the wolves tear his leg apart when suddenly-

"-Ambulances and police officers came and killed the wolves. Shot them between the eyes and scared the rest off," Peeta says, his eyes glued to his hands. "It was too late for Katniss by then and Cato and I were rushed to the emergency room for surgery."

Clove doesn't even know what to say.

"Gale was found later deep in the woods, scratched up a little but other than that, perfectly fine. All limbs intact," Peeta adds bitterly.

Gale wasn't the only one Katniss was cheating with.

Peeta is just as guilty as Gale. He-

-loved her. Cato's leg is tattered, ripped into bloody strips, his blood soaking into the dirt. His mauled leg doesn't hurt at all though.

What hurts the most is losing Katniss.

**A/N: Intense chapter, no? LOL, I felt intense writing it. **

**So I just failed my AP test. As of right now, I'm basically one of those girls that need Peeta's cupcakes and cookies desperately. That is how depressed I am. *sobs* **

**Know what would make me feel better? REVIEWS make me very happy. So click on that cute little box and send me your love (and thoughts on the chapter of course xD). **

**Our goal is 50 reviews! I know you gorgeous wonderful people can do it! **

**SHOWER ME WITH REVIEWS! LET'S MAKE IT RAIN! **


	6. A Four Letter Word

**A/N: You guys are AMAZING. The best people out there! You exceeded the goal which means I love you even more now! **

**Oh, Comic Con is in SD this weekend. That means ALEXANDER LUDWIG is here! AHHHHHH **

**Anyways, enough of my fangirling. Here's the next glorious chapter! –TLITD **

CHAPTER 6

Cato glances at the clock while lying upside down on the couch. Even from his strange yet comfortable position, Cato can tell that it's almost eight o'clock. Groaning, Cato forces himself to leave the comfy couch and get ready for work.

He showers quickly and tugs on a button-up shirt. Cato rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and sprays himself with the cologne that Haymitch gave him. According to Haymitch, this particular cologne will attract ladies to the night club where they will spend excessive amounts of money that shall pool into Haymitch's already bulging pockets. Cato rolls his eyes at Haymitch's drunken logic as he pulls on his worn out jeans. Haymitch does have a point though, girls like pretty boys and Cato fits the description perfectly.

Cato finishes his buttons, leaving more than a few undone at the top to, in Haymitch's words, 'rile up the ladies', and grabs his car keys and messenger bag. He never goes anywhere without his drugs.

Cato pulls up into the night club's packed parking lot and cuts the line. He slips past the bouncer and after ten thousand 'excuse me', Cato finally reaches his destination: the bar.

"You're late," Haymitch says, frowning as the blonde boy arrives.

"I was here on time actually. One of yourcustomers grabbed my ass and squeezed it, making me late," Cato explains as he pins on his name tag. His ass wasn't the only thing she grabbed.

"I don't see how that can possibly make you ten minutes late," Haymitch grumbles, taking a swig from his expensive white vodka.

"You see, the thing was, she didn't _let go_," Cato replies, already cutting up lemons for the hardcore alcoholics.

"Excuses," is Haymitch's predictable answer. He rolls his eyes at Cato and escapes to the backroom to enjoy the rest of his vodka in private.

Cato's concentrating on cutting the lemons into identical slices when suddenly a tall blonde girl materializes next to him. Cato looks up and immediately wishes he hadn't. The girl pulls him in for a long messy kiss, cramming her slippery tongue down his throat. Cato chokes on her eel-like tongue but the girl must've mistaken his choking for a pleasurable moan because she deepens the kiss, further invading his mouth.

Suddenly, the girl's plucked off him and Cato's lungs are burning for air. "Thanks," he wheezes, offering his savior a free drink.

Peeta takes the beer and grins. "No problem."

Cato rinses out his mouth with several gulps of Scotch, a disgusted look on his face.

"You know, any other guy would be ecstatic that Glimmer kissed him," Peeta says, unable to understand his friend. Even the legendary quarterback Caesar Flickerman would be jumping from joy if he locked lips with the blonde beauty but Cato just shakes his head and returns to his lemons.

Clove pushes past the crowd in her quest to get to the bar. She really tried to start on her essay but it was virtually impossible with Cato stuck on her mind. After hours of attempting to write one paragraph, Clove gave up and slipped into a strapless black dress, deciding that a little partying will clear her mind.

So here she is, in a night club when she should be in her dorm room, studiously working on her thesis. Her parents would probably blow a gasket if they find out but at least her faithful friend Annie will approve of her actions.

Clove pulls herself on a metal stool and feels an uncharacteristic pang of jealousy as a group of girls approach Cato, wobbling dangerously in their platform heels. They lean forward to expose as much cleavage as humanly possible but Cato doesn't pay any attention to their obvious interest in him and just expertly mixes six cocktails. He slides them their drinks and checks his phone for the time. It's 11:00 and Cato's shift is over. Now where the hell is Marvel?

Cato's head is starting to spin from the lack of morphine but he can't leave his station, not unless Marvel show up. His hands begin trembling and he spills constantly now. _Where is that bastard?_

Cato is about to pass out from the withdrawal when a hand falls on his shoulder.

"Sorry," Marvel says apologetically, his face smeared with red lipstick and shirt hanging open. "I-"

Cato doesn't stick around to listen to his excuses. He doesn't care if Marvel was fucking President Snow. All he cares about is getting morphine in his bloodstream.

Cato pushes past Marvel and darts into the bathroom, leaving many girls disappointed.

Clove doesn't think, she leaps off her stool and bursts into the men's bathroom like a well-trained FBI agent. The door slams shut behind her and Cato freezes, the needle poised above his arm.

Before Cato can process what happened, Clove snatches the needle from his hand and holds it high above her head like a first place trophy. There's no way she's letting him inject himself with this. Not a chance.

Cato has no idea how or when she got a hold of his needle. One minute the needle was in his hand and the next, _poof. _Magically in Clove's hands now. Cato reaches for the needle and she easily slaps his hand away.

"Cato, you don't need this," Clove reasons, trying to ignore the way his body is shaking.

It's like she's saying he doesn't need air.

"What do you want? I'll do anything. Just give it back." He's drowning.

Cato's blood boil and he shivers. He's hot and cold at the same time. Screw those people who say the world will end in fire or ice. His world will go down in both, burning and freezing as everything fades to black.

Clove bites her lower lip, not sure if she's doing the right thing anymore. He's so feverish; she can feel the heat radiating off him from where she stands. She knows it's a ridiculous thought, but what if he dies because she didn't give him the drug? Clove doesn't know much about withdrawal but he looks like he's dying.

_Oh god, what if he is dying?_ Clove shoves the needle in his hand suddenly, her conflicting thoughts threatening to make her head explode if she doesn't. She spins around, unable to watch him stab himself. _So much for keeping the needle away from him._

Cato sinks the needle into his arm, relaxing immediately. His eyes slip shut and he savors the moment as the drug dulls his senses. Bright orange bubbles take over his vision making the world brighter than it usually is. Clove stands nervously among the bubbles, popping the occasional orange bubble that came too close.

"What do you want?" Cato asks, letting his eyes fall close. He was serious when he said he'll do anything. He can already guess what she wants. His next paycheck probably, girls like money. And nice cars, hopefully she won't take his car.

"I want a date," Clove blurts out, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

Cato opens his eyes, not sure he heard her correctly. "A date?" He asks incredulously.

Clove likes the idea the more she thinks about it. "A date. Tomorrow night. 8:00. I'll pick you up."

Cato jumps to his feet, the very idea of a 'date' bringing him out of his high. "But, I have work!"

Clove shakes her head at his weak excuse. "Not anymore. 8:00!"

She leaves the bathroom, extremely satisfied with the outcome of the evening. If Cato doesn't want a date, that's just too bad for him. It's going to happen whether he likes it or not.

8:00, with Cato, alone, on a date. Clove just can't wipe the huge smile off her face.

**A/N:**

**Dear My Beloved Readers, **

**Ohlala. A date is coming up! Who's excited? If you are, REVIEW :D **

**If you're not. Still review and give me death threats instead ;) **

**Either one is fine and greatly appreciated!**

**New goal is 70 reviews! I am confident that you shall exceed the goal once again because you're just that awesome! **

**Love, TLITD **

**PS. DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! :D **


	7. Butterflies

**A/N: Rewrite of the chapter for all you folks who didn't get the drinking game. Clove explains it all to ya **** -TLITD**

CHAPTER 7  
It has been too long since Cato last went on a date. So instead of wearing casual normal clothes like normal people, he wore his bartender attire: white button down shirt with a black tie. He thought he dressed fine until Clove pulled up at a restaurant that resembles a shack and he realized that he has, in fact, overdressed.

"I, er, overdressed, didn't I?" He tugs at his tie self-consciously as if doing so would make the tie magically disappear.

Clove noticed that he had overdressed on the car ride, but thought it best not to mention it since he seemed nervous enough as it was. But _something_ has to be done about that look. She gives him the once-over, her hands resting on her hips as she ponders over what to do about his formal wear. With sudden inspiration, she grabs his tie and yanks on it until he's standing directly in front of her. He blinks in surprise but doesn't say anything.

"Stand still," she orders when he fidgets. Her hands quickly undo his tie and she stuffs it into the small leather bag at her side. Clove unfastens a few buttons and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, her fingertips tingling every time they touch his arm.

About done, she stands back to inspect her handiwork so far. As a final touch, she messes up his hair, running her fingers through the soft blonde strands until it looks as though he rolled out of bed and into the car.

"There!" She says, satisfied. He looks rumpled and irresistibly sexy. "Come on."

She takes his hand and leads him through the double doors and into the brightly lit room.

Music blasts from speakers and a pleasantly spicy and sweet aroma wafts through the crowded room. Although the exterior of the restaurant is rundown, the interior is decorated tastefully. Glass chandeliers hang from the high ceiling and while it was chilly outside, inside, it's warm and cozy. He glances around the restaurant and frowns; all the chairs appear to be taken. Cato's about to point out that unfortunate fact when a frenzied waitress swings out two wooden chairs and plops them down at an occupied table. The waitress greets them as though she knows them and Cato realizes with a jolt that the waitress is Annie.

"Welcome to The Hunger Games," Annie has to shout to be heard over the loud laughing of the diners.

Cato's eyes flick around the room, taking it all in. He's driven by here plenty of times, but never thought to go in. It seemed like a lame hangout back then. His perception on The Hunger Games has definitely changed for the better.

Clove sits down as though she's right at home and begins to introduce herself to the group of college students. Cato quietly slides into his own chair and just then, Annie returns with two plates piled high with a heavenly smelling burger with a side of fries.

"Sunday Special," Clove explains. "Hardly anyone orders anything else on Sundays."

Before Cato can even think of a response, a red-headed girl on his left pushes a shot glass in front of him and pours straight vodka into it till it threatens to overfill the brim.

"He's playing," she declares before asking him. The tiny redhead turns to him suddenly. "You're playing right?"

Cato steals a look at Clove and he sees she has a glass in front of her as well. She gives him a tiny nod, encouraging him to join.

"Uh sure, I'll play," he says, popping a fry into his mouth.

The redhead beams. "I'm Fox by the way."

"Cato," he replies. Fox nods, acknowledging him for an extra second before turning her attention back to the whole group.

Cato expected her to explain the game and its rules but seeing as she was occupied with other matters, he sought out Clove.

"What exactly are we playing?" Cato asks, fingering the brim of the glass.

Clove twirls a lock of brown hair around her finger and lets it fall back onto her bare shoulder. Cato notices for the third time that night how pretty she is. Mesmerized by the way her hair brushes her shoulders, he almost misses what she says.

"It's a drinking game. Basically, someone says a statement, and if the statement is true for you, you drink. And you keep playing until someone passes out. Here, I'll start."

When Clove said that, the group at the table quieted down considerably.

"I'm a virgin," Clove says and everyone at the table groans. Clove tips the glass back and swallows the contents along with everyone else.

"Bottoms up, Cato," Clove says, her face scrunching up from the bitterness. She pauses momentarily, considering the possibility that he might actually be a virgin, then dismisses it as quickly as the thought came to her. A guy as good looking as Cato can't possibly be a virgin.

But the look on his face tells her otherwise. He stares at the glass and when he notices everyone's staring at him, he grabs the glass and downs it quickly, almost too quickly, Clove observes. With everyone's curious eyes on him, he flushes and ducks his head to hide the blood rushing to his face.

"What? I'm not a virgin," he mumbles at the table.

Clove stifles a laugh, writing the suppressed laughter off as a violent cough attack instead. She leans over and whispers in his ear, "You are a horrible liar."

He turns even redder. "I'm not lying," he lies, trying to keep his voice neutral. It comes out as a squeak.

The group exchanges amused looks and the corners of their mouths quirk upwards but they don't say anything about his virgin status. The game continues and Cato might not know it yet, but he's let his guard down; something he hasn't done since Katniss died.

By midnight, Clove's tipsy and Cato's seeing double. He helps two Cloves up and leaves a twenty on the table. The Hunger Games is nearly empty by now and the few people left are leaving in rowdy groups. They're about to exit when an empty soda can hits the back of Cato's head squarely.

"Hey!" Someone yells and Cato turns around, rubbing his head sorely. Annie makes her way towards them and holds out her hand. "Keys, Clove," she orders. "As your best friend, it's my sacred duty to make sure you don't drive under the influence."

Clove fumbles into her bag, shifting the tie to the side before her fingers touch the cold metal of the keys. She drops her car keys into Annie's outstretched hand. "Don't lose my keys," Clove reminds her.

Annie waves her hand, shooing them out of the restaurant and flipping the 'open' sign over so that it says 'closed' in red once they're out.

The night air is refreshing and sweet with the scents of fall. The fresh breeze clears her thoughts so that the world seems new. The street lights are flickering but the moon is full and coats the earth in fairytale magic.

They walk side by side listening to the crickets chirp until Cato breaks the silence.

"I had fun tonight," he says out of the blue. It's been so long since he had fun, he had forgotten how it felt like to laugh.

She smiles and catches his hand, holding it loosely in hers so that he can pull away easily if he wanted to.

Warm and soft and _electric_. A tiny shock travels through Cato and his hand convulsively tightens around hers. Something's fluttering madly in his stomach, threatening to make him explode. He remembers this feeling. The last time he felt it was with Katniss; butterflies swirling up a hurricane and heart pounding hard.

It feels nice.

No. It feels fucking amazing.

**A/N: Reviewing is optional this time around cause I feel awful for leaving you all hanging…. **

**Chapter 8 coming up soon. I'm excited :D **


	8. Socks

**A/N: And I'm back, alive and well! Enjoy darlings! 3**

CHAPTER 8

"How did it go?" Annie asks, squeezing a healthy amount of cinnamon flavored massage oil into her palm.

"How did what go?" Clove replies distractedly. She types another sentence, and then deletes it. "Damn it! I can't write shit!"

Annie cocks her eyebrow and pauses, her hands poised above the smooth, tanned back of Finnick Odair. "Put the laptop away. Of course you can't write shit, you have a hangover. Now tell me about your date with your sexy, sexy blondie."

Clove slammed the pink laptop shut and she suddenly felt much, much better. The essay, which was the unavoidable rain cloud hovering over her head for weeks now, was gone and the sun was allowed to shine again. "It went great actually. We –."

Suddenly Finnick groans loudly beneath Annie's expert hands. "We –," Clove tried again.

Finnick groans again, closer to a scream this time and Clove glares at Finnick, shooting multiple daggers at him with her eyes. The glare, however, went unnoticed because Finnick's gorgeous face was buried in Annie's fluffy pink pillows.

"Annie!" Clove says exasperatedly and Annie looks up from her delicious boyfriend.

"What?" Annie says, brushing her brown locks back from her sweaty face with her elbows.

"Baby, don't stop," says Finnick.

"What did we say about the nudity?" Clove says patiently, folding her hands on her lap.

Annie glances at Finnick. "He is wearing clothes."

Clove lets out a sigh. "Socks do not count as clothes," she says, waving her hands at the white socks that adorn Finnick's feet. "Shirts, jeans,_ underwear_ counts as clothes!"

"Oh." Annie smiles sheepishly. She shifts her position so that the perfect swell of Finnick's ass was modestly covered by her toned thighs. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"We –."

A loud piercing scream came from Finnick and Annie's cinnamon scented hand clamps down over his lips. "Shh babe. Continue Clove."

"We had a great time," Clove finishes lamely.

She shoves her laptop into her bag and swings it over her shoulder. "I'll tell you later… when Finnick is wearing, you know, clothes, not socks."

Clove shoves her feet into her Converses and left the room, not sure yet where she's going.

**A/N: Whew! I'm a little rusty on the whole writing thing so bear with me. Hopefully, this chapter didn't suck too much… *fingers crossed***

**But like usual, REVIEW! It's food for my soul :) **

**Love, TLITD**


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